‘You say this man sailed for Spanish America in the year ’53. Your sister was married in ’58. How, then, can you suppose that Lucille’s father and the man calling himself Vandeleur are one and the same person?’ ‘There would have been ample time for Sivewright to have grown tired of America between ’53 and ’58.’ ‘So there might. Yet it seems altogether gratuitous to suppose any identity between the two men. Musical genius is not so exceptional a quality; nor is scoundrelism the most uncommon of attributes to be found among the varieties of mankind.’ They discussed the subject at length in all its bearings. It was a relief to Lucius to unburden his mind to the friend he loved and trusted; the chosen companion of so many adventures; the man whose shrewd sense he had never found wanting in the hour of difficulty. They talked long and late, and Lucius slept at the Cosmopolitan, and returned to the Shadrack district at an hour when the domestics of that popular hotel were only just opening their weary eyelids on the summer morning. He spent his day in the accustomed round of toil; had double work to do in consequence of his brief holiday; found the atmosphere of the Shadrack-road heavy and oppressive in the sultry noontide, after the clearer air and bluer skies of the hills and woods round Stillmington. And that all-pervading aspect of poverty which marked the streets and alleys of his parish struck him more keenly after the smug respectability and prosperous trimness of Stillmington’s dainty High-street and newly-erected villas. He travelled over the beaten track somewhat wearily, and felt ever so little inclined to envy Geoffrey, who was by this time hurrying across the face of the sun-dappled country-side, in the Hull express, on the first stage to Norway. But he was no whit less patient than usual in his attention to the parish invalids; and when the long day was done he turned homeward hopefully, to refresh himself after his labours before presenting himself at Cedar Lodge. It was dusk when Mrs. Wincher admitted him into the blossomless courtyard. Mr. Sivewright had retired for the night, but Lucille was at work in the parlour, Mrs. Wincher informed him, with her protecting air. ‘You never come anigh us yesterday, nor yet the day before, Dr. Davory,’ she said, ‘and Mr. Sivewright was quite grumptious about it—said as he began to feel you was neglecting of him. “It serves me right,” he said, “for believin’ as any doctor would go on caring for his patient without the hope of a fee;” but I took him up sharp enough, and told him he ought to know you’d never looked at your attendance here from a fanatical pint of view.’ ‘Meaning financial, I suppose, Mrs. Wincher?’ ‘O lor, yes, if you like it better pernounced that way. I gave it him up-right and down-straight, you may be sure.’